


Administrative Secretary

by TheZ1337



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mutual Pining, Office Sex, Romance, Sad Ending, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 08:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10272503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheZ1337/pseuds/TheZ1337
Summary: All work and no play makes Percival Graves a dull, dull boy. His secretary is out on maternity leave, so Queenie Goldstein has to fill in for her.Thanks tomto-artfor the artwork inspiration for this piece.





	

"All work and no play, Mr. Graves."

"Thank you Ms. Goldstein" Percival said forcefully and dismissed her from his office. Queenie lingered halfway out the door and bounced from one foot to the other. He leaned on his desk with a hand on either side of a piece of parchment. He squinted down at the small handwriting, and didn't look up. His brow was furrowed, he looked worried.

Queenie stopped all her bubbly, flirtatious looks when there was no watching her so she stood calmly as she looked at the Director. She watched him, overworked and exhausted but pushing through. He'd worked so hard to get to this point, and now he almost never went home. He'd been sleeping in his office.

She turned, his mind shut off from her no matter how many times she tried to listen. She wasn't sure if he was a legilimens like her, but he had enough training to put up a wall. She closed the door and heard the lock click behind her as he charmed the door. She quietly walked down the lonely corridor as Percival continued to look over the papers on his desk.

Graves hated when Queenie was his _coffee secretary_ , as the Aurors called it though her official title was Administrative Secretary. He liked Betty, his regular secretary but she was out sick with the last month of her pregnancy, which would be followed by at least two months of maternity leave. Queenie was scheduled to cover her shift while she was out.

Graves didn't particularly like Queenie because she was flirty and distracting, and a little too nosy. She was always so unnecessarily bubbly in the mornings when all he wanted was his scalding hot coffee without conversation. She was also unprofessional at times, which didn't bode well when they had international dignitaries in for meetings and she was all flirty in her pink and peach dresses, and butterfly heels.

Graves groaned and sat down the next day with Picquery. After that, he met with two of his Aurors, Elix and Corner. They discussed the whereabouts of a rogue wizard who'd been selling enchanted items to unsuspecting no-maj's up in northern Manhattan. He worked long hours and Queenie came in at nine with coffee and a muffin, one pm with a cup of coffee, and four with coffee and some crackers.

It was a pretty regular schedule, and Queenie always went home at 5 o'clock precisely. Graves worked late in to the evenings, and didn't mind having to get himself the dregs of lukewarm coffee at seven pm because the building was always quiet at that hour.

* * *

"Ms. Goldstein, what is that?" He looked up from the tray she brought him in the morning. On it was a cup of coffee and a scone with a slice of butter. She bit her lower lip and turned on her heel, hands squeezed tight together in front of her.

"What's what, Mr. Graves?"

"That's not a muffin."

"No, its not."

"What is it?" He looked up skeptically at her.

"It's... a scone. I made it," she chirped.

"I don't want a scone, Ms. Goldstein" he sighed as if he was already exhausted with her. She'd noticed lately his patience with her had been wearing thin. She chewed her bottom lip nervously.

"But I made it. It's real good. I brought a tray to my girlfriends brunch party on Sunday-"

"Ms. Goldstein, I ask for one thing from my secretary. I ask for coffee-"

"and a muffin."

"and a muffin," he said at the same time. "It's not much."

"Okay, okay. I'll getcha a muffin."

"Thank you," he said and looked back down at his work. She bore in to him, staring at that thick salt and pepper haircut but still she heard nothing. She made a pouty face that he didn't see before she turned and left the office.

Graves looked up. The little blueberry scone was made in to a small square with uneven edges and extra butter on the side. He reached over and picked it up. He'd had a scone before, but not in a long time. He turned it over and analyzed it. He smelled it and wasn't surprised that it smelled like fresh blueberries and sugar.

He took a bite. It tasted perfect. It was moist without too many blueberries and he could barely taste the extra cup of sugar in the recipe. He put it down on the plate, chewed and a paper airplane flew in to his office. He snatched it out of the air and scanned it. Then he got up, lamented how his coffee would be cold when he got back, and left his office.

When Queenie came back with a muffin, the office was locked and she felt like she'd disappointed Graves. But when she came back after lunch to deliver his coffee and some mail, she noticed he'd taken a bite of the scone. The coffee cup was still full as she replaced it, and she put the pieces together. He hadn't shut her out after the scone incident, he'd been called away. She didn't say anything about it as he talked busily with an Auror who was poking around near one of the bookshelves, picking up small trinkets and setting them down.

* * *

She liked Percival Graves; everyone liked him. How could they not? With that deep drawl when he pronounced the word Miss and his dominant stature, he was quite a catch. She loved the way his face looked so unassuming like he wanted everybody to be innocent even though he was _the_  law as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He always seemed to be reluctant to punish wrong doers, that was why he knew the law like the back of his hand. That way it wasn't him handing down punishment, it was the law. He tried to be lenient.

With his age and that full head of hair, more than one person at MACUSA tried to get in to Percival's good graces. Queenie hoped Betty took off more time after she had her baby so that she could keep working for Percival.

The budget year came to an end in July and a year-end party was scheduled. Dinner was served in a swanky hotel ballroom with a stage against one wall and the dance floor in the center. Awards would be given out for people who'd worked at MACUSA for 5, 10, 15 years and so on. Picquery did the announcements and Graves sat at one of the tables in front.

Queenie sat towards the back with a few of the other secretaries and Tina. When she was called up for her 5 years she blushed a deep shade of pink that matched her floor length, empire waist dress. She walked up to the stage quickly, heels clicking over the ballroom floor. She walked up the three steps in the center of the stage and shook Picquery's hand who thanked her for her work and dedication. She took home a small bonus check as a show of appreciation.

She turned to walk back down the steps, the lights in her eyes. She squinted and suddenly she passed under the light. Now she was able to see everyone looking up at her and clapping, even Percival who wore a tux with a white vest and very expensive cuff links. She saw him sitting at the front table and their eyes met as he clapped reservedly. His smile seemed genuine and in that moment Queenie wanted to trip. 

It was a technique she used when she wanted attention from a guy. She would trip, always catching herself before she completely fell and the unsuspecting gentleman would come to her aid. But she decided not to make a scene and walked back to her seat. She tucked her bonus into Tina's handbag.

After the awards, the band went on the stage and started their performance. Plates were cleared and the desert buffet was laid out. Queenie got up to dance with her friends.

Percival stood on the edge of the dance floor as he spoke with one of his Aurors. He stood calmly with a hand in his pocket, explaining something with his other as he leaned in. He successfully avoided flirting with her despite the prominence of her shoulder bones. The night went on.

Finally Queenie sat down to rest her feet. Tina went off to get them a drink and Queenie sat by herself at the round table with nine empty chairs. Percival walked over to her and she smiled as he approached.

Her face lit up and he watched her eagerly wait for him. He stopped in front of her and held out a hand to her cordially, though his face made it clear he expected her to accept her invitation. "Ms. Goldstein, would you like to dance?"

"With you Mr. Graves? I'd love to," she put her hand in his and they walked on to the dance floor. It was late and her accent was slipping out, making his title sound more like "mista" but he let it slide since they weren't officially at work.

He sighed under his breath but smiled gently at her as they faced each other, and he looked over her shoulder. They swayed for a few seconds and his hand rested low on her shoulder blade. They started to dance across the floor as they fell between an easy two step and box step waltz. Finally Percival looked at Queenie and she couldn't breath.

She could smell his cologne even though there was still a comfortable space between them as he led her around the room. His arm was strong as he held hers up on his shoulder, and she imagined his hand was warm against hers on the other side of the silk gloves that she wore.

"Are you having a good time?"

"I am Mr. Graves, are you?"

"Oh of course, I always enjoy the company party." He stepped them around a corner, the band picking up the chorus. Queenie could just melt under his heavy gaze.

"You're an excellent dancer, Mr. Graves."

His smile changed. It became more genuine, not like he was just humoring her but like he genuinely enjoyed the compliment. "You're not to bad yourself, Ms. Goldstein."

"Call me Queenie."

He smiled a bit wider as he tried to hide a laugh and he looked away briefly. Then he looked back at her with his reserved nature and she watched his shoulders relax. She saw the faint crinkling around his eyes from the laugh he restrained, and she wanted to hear his voice.

"So what do you do when you're not working, Mr. Graves?"

"I'm never not on the clock."

"One of those workaholic types?"

"Yes well, it comes with the title. And you? You like to bake, I know that."

Queenie giggled and squeezed his hand. He hated when she flirted, and now she was flirting directly with him. Her gaze was almost knowing, like she was good at reading people. And while she might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, Percival knew she was undoubtedly one of the sweetest women he'd ever met. He reminded himself that she was in his arms, only his, and they turned another corner on the edge of the dance floor.

"I love ta cook. I also sew all my own clothes."

"Did you make this dress yourself?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, proud of herself.

"Well, lets see it then." With a gentle push from his hand she spun as he walked her across the floor two, three steps. Then their hands connected again and she giggled. He couldn't help but laugh as she settled back in to his arms, the inches fewer between them now than before.  "It looks beautiful on you."

"Gee Mr. Graves, thanks so much." She felt good in Percival's arms. He liked the way she danced and followed his slightest provocation when they got to the next edge of the dance floor. He realized that now they were heavily flirting; he'd twirled her, and complimented her, and he was smiling, and he knew everyone was watching even if there were a dozen other couples on the floor. They stopped briefly to clap for the band when they finished their song, then picked right back up where they'd left off when the band started a new song.

"Tell me Mr. Graves, have you ever had rhubarb?"

"I have, surprisingly. My grandmother used to make strawberry rhubarb jam."

"Is that right? Well she musta been quite the woman, canning it herself I'm sure."

They chatted away for another song before Percival realized he was actually enjoying himself. He was having too much fun with his secretary, and she was continuously blushing and leaning in. He finally looked away from her and broke away when the song finished. He clapped for the band; so did she and she stood a little too close.

"Well I-"

"I should-"

"Oh, sorry."

"No, you go ahead."

Queenie bounced, shifted her feet, then dug her heel in to the dance floor. "I should probably take a break."

"Right, I didn't mean to take you away from your table."

"Oh no, it's no problem, really."

They lingered. "Well, anyways."

"Thanks for the dance."

"It was no problem at all," Percival said a bit less than enthusiastically, and walked over to his table. Queenie walked to hers and sat down with a deep sigh. Tina raised an eyebrow as she looked at her sister with a _you really just did that?_  expression.

"What?" Queenie squeaked innocently before she looked away from Tina.

* * *

"Yeah, but I need to get these papers over to the new Surveillor before five o'clock, and I still have to finish outlining this map-"

"Oh I can help you, Mr. Graves."

He looked up. He stood at his desk, as per usual, pouring over some papers with Corner across from him. Queenie lingered in his doorway... again.

"You'd be willing to walk all the way over to the Surveillors office?" He looked up at the clock on the wall. "Can you get there in the next ten minutes."

"Sure," her Brooklyn accent slipped through, making her words sound more like "shoe-uh" and Percival realized he was finding that an enduring trait of hers. She happily walked over to his desk.

"Thank you Ms. Goldstein, I'll approve your overtime."

"It's really no problem, Mr. Graves."

She scooped up the papers in a confidential envelope and left the room. She walked down the winding staircases, then back up. She ignored the aching of her feet as she walked the long corridors. Lately Graves hadn't been as short with her as before, ever since the company party and that thought kept her entertained most of the way.

"Mrs. Proudfoot?" she knocked with two knuckles on the door frame of a small, crowded office. A squat woman with glasses too big for her face peeked over a pile of papers.  
"Yes?"

"I brought these over from Mr. Graves," she walked in and handed the woman the papers.

"Always so punctual, that man. Will you bring these back to him for me?" She pointed to the entire stack of papers in front of her. Queenie judged the size of the pile and pulled out her wand.

"Sure, I'll get them to him right away." She waved her wand in a small sweeping motion and the papers lifted off the table. She walked confidently with them back to Percival's office. Going through the return trip was markedly different from ten minutes prior.

The entire MACUSA was silent five minutes after five. Everyone punched out and left for home. Only the most important people, Queenie reminded herself that she was included in that, stayed after five. She got back to Percival's office and he was alone now. She set the papers down on his desk and he looked up.

"What's that?"

"From Mrs. Proudfoot, she said to bring 'em to you." 

He groaned, "I told her to have her assistant go through them. Alright, fine fine, I'll take care of it tomorrow. Thank you Ms. Goldstein."

"Is there anything else I can do for you Mr. Graves?"

"No, that'll be all. Thank you."

She picked up the remnants of his afternoon coffee and went to the door where she paused. She bounced from one foot to the other, sucking her lower lip before she turned. "Mr. Graves?"

He looked up, like he'd been expecting her to say something.

"Would," she sighed. She shifted to her other foot and dug her heel down in to the carpet. "Would you like to come out to have coffee with me?" He perked up, his hands sliding off the desk. "I mean, I know you say your work is your life but surely you can take an hour off on a Saturday to take a gal to coffee, can't'cha?"

He hated when she flirted. He hated the way she bit her lip like she was innocent, like she didn't know exactly what she was doing. He hated the way she batted her eyelashes, especially at him. Because she was so easy to fall in to. She was so open and sweet, so soft with ruby lips and bright eyes. He reached up and loosened his collar with a finger down the front, a gesture he immediately regretted as her eyes lit up.

"Yeah, I can do that. Saturday, how about one?"

"You know the cafe off McCormick an' third?"

"Yeah."

"See ya there," she bounced, tipped her shoulder towards him and then left. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he exhaled.

* * *

He arrived five minute after one to see Queenie already at a table. He sat down and waited for the waiter to come around.

"You don't own anything but suits, do you Mr. Graves?"

"I'm on my lunch break," he teased.

"What? On a Saturday? Sweetie, you need a vacation."

_Sweetie_ , he repeated. And she heard it. She perked up because he'd let his guard down. Now she was paying all her attention to him. "It would be a working vacation, if anything." She looked so pretty in her yellow sun dress, her blonde hair pinned back in tight curls with a small barrette. Her lipstick was a new shade, one she never wore to work. He cleared his throat and sat back, ashamed of himself that he'd noticed that. "Besides, when was the last time you had a vacation?" He asked.

"Oh I never take vacation. I prefer to take half days."

"That's right, that's right. I've seen your time card, you get sick a lot don't you?"

"Not lately, no."

He felt it again, that flirting thing. Had she stopped pretending to get sick so she could be around him? Percival realized that's exactly what had been happening. The waitress came around and took their orders. She ordered something vanilla, and he ordered a plain coffee.

"It's strange, innit?"

"Hmm?" he raised his eyebrows over his cup as he sipped.

"Having someone else bring you coffee 'sides me."

He set his cup down and looked in to it. Then he looked back up at her and saw her staring expectantly at him. "Yours is much better than this," he said quietly.

She giggled, "Don't fib. It comes from that big pot in the lunch room."

"Yeah, but you're not the one serving it, so yours is better." She blushed and he realized he'd flirted back. He didn't want to, not with Queenie. But he was coming to the realization that he might have already made too many mistakes with her. Coffee on a Saturday afternoon, dancing through two songs with her... he tried to ignore her the next week at work.

It didn't work.

* * *

Friday rolled around and Percival sat behind his desk. He hated his desk chair since it seemed like it grew increasingly uncomfortable the longer he sat in it. He leaned forward on the desk, his head in his hands, shoulders hunched. Maybe if he just let himself have a cat nap then he could get back to work.

A knock on the door drew his attention. It was almost nine o'clock on Friday night, and he told himself even Picquery had probably gone home. He looked up, and Queenie stood there, peeking in. He sat up, "Ms. Goldstein, come in. What are you doing here so late?"

"I knew you'd still be here, so I brought a late night pick-me-up."

She handed over a small brown paper bag with a sandwich and an apple in it. He looked in the bag and chuckled before he set it on his desk.

"Thank you." She smiled back and rocked on her heels, hands clasped together tight in front of her. "Wait, how'd you get in here?" he asked.

"I asked security, said I left some private items at my desk."

"They didn't escort you?"

"I told him I had to go to powder, so's he let me walk myself," she giggled.

He shook his head, "As head of the Director of Magical Security-"

"You look tense," she slipped off her coat and dropped it on the back of one of the chairs as she changed the subject from the lecture he'd been about to give. He saw that she'd changed in to a long sleeve dress that was a deep blue color. She walked around him and immediately pressed her fingers in to his shoulders.

He groaned and rolled the palms of his hands over the edges of the armrests. She reached around him and loosened his tie with one hand and his fingers brushed hers as he reached up to undo the top button. "Thank you," he groaned as she massaged her fingers in to him

"You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders, don't you?"

"Mmm," Graves nodded and let his eyes close. Her perfume was distinct, and seemed to magnify as he closed his eyes. It smelled sweet but not overly flowery. She pressed her fingers in to sore muscles, then her thumbs up against the back of his neck and down under his collar. He let his head fall forward.

She massaged his shoulders in silence for several minutes. He liked this, her gentle hands on him and also her silence. He liked the company so late at the end of a long week. Finally she pushed her fingers up from the base of his skull to the back of his head before she pulled them away. He raised his head, "Thank you."  
"Any time, sweetie." She went to walk around him and he sighed. He reached out, he couldn't help himself. His hand was strong as it reached around her waist and she made a small squeak of protest as he pulled her in to his lap. He finally gave in and pulled her in to a kiss immediately as she fell against his chest. Arms wrapped around her waist as she kissed him back, his mouth opening hers gently as she pressed soft lips back against his. She reached up her hands and cupped his face on either side, kissing him back deep and slow. 

She shifted around and he used a hand on the back of her knee to spread her legs on either side of him. Suddenly the chair didn't seem as uncomfortable as before.

She kissed his head back and he felt her pressing softly against him. He slid a hand under her dress, against the back of her thigh and around. He felt the tops of her thigh high stockings and brushed past her garter.

"Mr. Graves," she gasped in a whisper as she pulled away. She couldn't hear him at all, it was a complete shock. She didn't know what he was going to do next, or what he wanted to do to her; this all felt completely different that what she was used to.

He stopped, his thumb on her inner thigh and he looked up at her. He didn't push her, he waited. She looked down at him, her eyes searching his and then she said quietly, "Well don't stop now," and continued to kiss him. 

"Call me Percy," he purred back. Then he slipped his hand up further, slid a finger under the line of her panties and followed it down. The flat of his finger brushed against her softness. She was curved softly and felt like the skin of a ripe peach. Percival kissed her throat and she breathed softly against him. He slipped a finger between her lips, and he could feel she was already wet. Merlin's beard, how long had she waited for this, wanting it and yet he always pushed her away?

He stroked the tip of his finger back up and pressed it against her clit, and he heard her give out a quiet gasp. He could only imagine she was biting her lip, face hidden from him as he planted butterfly kisses on her neck. She wrapped her arms tight around his shoulders and he continued to press his finger against her.

Then he moved his index finger in small, quick circles and she began to move her hips back and forth against him. He could feel her chest rise and fall faster, her breath quivering as he played.

Finally he slipped his index finger up in to her and she let out a quiet gasp of a breath and raised her head slightly. Percival tilted his face towards her and he pulled her in to a kiss. He caught a glimpse of her face, all flushed and pink like he'd never seen before. He pushed his finger up and down, his other fingers holding her undies to the side. His thump pressed against her clit and it was all handiwork from there.

She kissed him almost shyly until he stuck another finger in her and once again she caved in to him. With her head next to his, he put a hand on her lower back as he finger fucked her in his lap. She crooned against him, her quiet gasps almost a reprieve from her normal chattiness. She tensed and his hand on her back reassured her that she could get off at any time, that this was all he was going to do to her here.

He didn't push his fingers hard in to her, just gently in and out, his fingers soft and nails trimmed. When she jerked away from him he pulled his fingers out and massaged them quick over her clit. She tensed, inhaled and she was overwhelmed, the build up precise and pure. She was completely silent as she felt herself floating away on top of her orgasm, nothing spilling out but still the feeling was intensely good. He slowed his movements after he felt her start to tremble, the last of her orgasm trickling off.

Then he pulled his hand away, out from under her dress and he let her rest against him. He pulled the skirt of her dress back down over her thighs to make her decent, and he wrapped his previously-occupied arm around her waist. It didn't take much convincing after that, in fact it took none at all, to get Percival to turn off the lights in his office and take Queenie home.

They got up to his second floor apartment and the lights turned on the second he opened the door. It was old fashioned, with claw-footed furniture and an umbrella stand next to the door.

He took Queenie's coat as she looked around and rubbed her left arm like she was cold, but really she was nervous. He took his coat and scarf off and hung them on the coatrack next to Queenie's obnoxiously pink silk jacket.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

"Sure," her Brooklyn accent slipped out again and he smiled as he turned his back to her to pour them drinks from a crystal goblet on a tray. The apartment was a one bedroom, with the kitchen, dining room and living room all sharing the same space. He turned to her and handed her a small glass.

"What's it?"

"Simple sherry. Alomena from HR makes her own and I get a bottle every year."

"Oh, I don't think I know Alomena."

Percival took a sip and so did Queenie. "Mmm," she said more to herself than to him. Percival put down the glass and walked to her, and Queenie found herself locked in his embrace again. He took the glass from her and set it on a table next to the door as he pulled her towards the bedroom. The lights clicked automatically on to a low setting.

He pulled her along and she went. She didn't try to put up a fight, and she didn't try to force him down on the bed, she let herself be pushed. This was refreshing. Graves always went for strong women, but it also meant they wanted to take the lead sometimes and he would rather they didn't. He wanted to assert his manhood by pressing Queenie down in to the bed, and so he did. 

She laid back and he kissed her gently as he hovered over her. Then he broke away to slide off the bed, "Allow me to help." He slipped a hand under her knee to pull her leg up and she pushed her hands down between them to hide herself like he hadn't already touched her, like he wasn't about to touch her more. He unstrapped her shoe and pulled it off. He set it as gently down next to the bed as he set down her leg. Then he did the same to her other foot.

He sat on the edge of the bed and began to work on his spats and boots, and cursed himself for always dressing so nicely in so many layers. Queenie scooted up behind him on the bed and ran her nails gently over the fabric of his vest. When he got the boots off he rolled over and Queenie scooted up the bed as he crawled towards her.

She let him press her down in to the pillows with a kiss and he laid down half on her and half on the bed. He cupped her cheek with his hand and she reached up to wrap her arm around him. He was being so soft and sweet, it was a side of him she'd never seen. 

He reached his hands up under her dress to take off her stockings and garter, and she reached up to unbutton his vest and shirt. He pulled down her panties with her nude-colored garter and she helped him push off his shirt. He was lean, not like the other men of his age who tended to garner a well-fed belly. She was naturally nurturing and wanted to tell him to eat more, but his kisses silenced her thoughts.

Soon they were both naked except for her bra. He pulled her up in to his lap and she squealed when he hoisted her in to his lap. He was hard but pressed the long side of his dick between them for now as he reached up. His hand trailed up her soft hips, over her thin waist that was pinched in so delicately. He reached up over her ribs, her skin powdery soft and he unclasped her bra with the quick snap of his fingers.

She pulled it off, her shoulders hunching in towards him. She pulled it away and he cupped one of her breasts in his hand, his mouth instantly on the other. She sucked her nipple and flicked his tongue over it as it became hard. They were the perfect size and shape; big enough to cup one in each hand, without overflowing. He swore her nipples were the same color as that obnoxious velvet coat she wore every day in winter.

He flipped her over, onto her back on the bed and she squealed. He chuckled and she spread her legs automatically. He pressed his thumb to the very inside of her thigh which he noticed was still damp and settled himself there.

He rubbed his tip against between her legs, getting it wet from her. He paused, giving her a few seconds to say no. He liked how she kissed so soft and caring, not desperate and messy. He pushed in and her lips puckered against his as he held the kiss. 

She felt so fucking good; warm and smooth as he slipped in just a bit, then a bit more. It was obvious she was experienced by the way she wasn't shyly pulling away or asking questions. No, she knew what she was doing, especially when she lifted the heels of her feet off the bed and her hand slid over his back, up to his neck and her nails brushed up the back of his head.

He let out a quiet groan and let his head dip next to hers, and she kissed his cheek. He smiled, looked up and caught her eyes. She was so comfortable and open, the lust splashed across her face in a blush. He began to thrust.

* * *

Percival woke up in the morning, and reached his hand to the other side of the double bed. He felt it empty and looked up through sleepy eyes. He saw the blankets ruffled, so he knew it wasn't a dream. He pressed himself up on his forearms and looked over to the other side of the room. Queenie's nylons and her dress were draped on the chair in the corner and he smiled faintly. It definitely hadn't been a dream.

He took a deep breath, exhaled in a yawn and pushed the blankets off. He sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. Then he got up and went to his bureau. They'd slept in the buff, so he put on some pajama pants and a white tank top. Then he went out to the other room.

Queenie wore only her chemise and was busily standing by the stove making breakfast, a spatula in hand. He walked out to her and she turned like she knew he was there.

"'Mornin'" she said cheerfully. The clock above the kitchen table read 6:05am. He walked up to her and put a hand gently on her waist.

"'Morning," he kissed her a quick peck and then looked around. "You're making me breakfast?"

"'Course sweetie, you can't go to work on an empty stomach."

He smiled and could almost laugh at how wifely she was. He took a seat at the table where Queenie had laid out two place mats across from each other with a folded napkin, knife and fork. The coffee pot poured him a cup of coffee before it floated over to him. The sugar dish added one scoop of sugar, the creamer poured him a dash of cream and he picked up his spoon. He felt pampered.

"You 'aint got much to cook with, Percy," she broke up some eggs in the pan. "And how do you take your eggs, you like 'em runny or firm?"

"Runny is fine, just a bit. And you know I don't sleep here much," he sipped his coffee. It was good, a bit stale though since he hadn't replaced the beans from the cupboard in a while.

"'Well I'm glad to fix ya up somethin'," she turned to look at him and winked, and he laughed.

"You're real sweet, Queenie."

The plates were filled with diced potato hash, eggs and a slice of bread she'd heated over the stove. He got ready while she did dishes, and she fixed his collar (even though it was perfect) before they walked out together. He felt slightly stifled by her, leaving at 7:30 whereas he would normally arrive at work on Saturday promptly at 7am.

* * *

At work, Percival was kinder to her. His exasperation at her by the end of the day seemed non existent and he didn't complain when she brought him homemade treats for breakfast. 

They didn't tell people they were dating, though the rumor mill swirled. Percival had too many important items to attend to to answer questions about his love life. And Queenie was fairly quiet on the situation; she told people he was taking her around town if they asked, but didn't offer much detail. It was a comfortably budding relationship.

Percival walked up to the Goldstein sisters' building one night. He hoped to Merlin that he didn't see Tina because that would just be awkward.He got up the three steps and stopped at the door. Did he knock? Ring the bell? He ruled that one out because there was no doorbell.

He assumed it was like most other boarding homes for ladies, and that men weren't allowed in. But how was he supposed to call her down? He cleared his throat, straightened his tie and tried to open the door. It wasn't locked and he looked down a long, dim hallway. A light was on in a room off to the left so he walked in and peeked casually in to the room. It was the living room of an older lady who was lounging on a single chair with the television on. She looked up in surprise.

"Pardon me, ma'am, I'm here to pick up Queenie Goldstein."

She stared at him in awe. She knew who Percival Graves was, everybody did. His face was in the papers. She pulled her shawl around her shoulders to cover herself as if she'd been indecent. She exhaled smoke in his direction, "QUEENIE!" She shouted to call her down.

Upstairs, Queenie gasped and grabbed her beaded clutch. Tina stood in the doorway of their bedroom, arms crossed as she watched her sister pick up her things and tuck away her wand. "I can't believe you're going out with Mr. Graves."

"He let's me call him Percy you know, when we're not at at work. Okay how do I look?"

She was wearing a light pink beaded dress with a slight v-neck, and matching kitten heels.

"You look fine, Queenie." 

"Oh you're no fun."

"Are you going to be home tonight?"

"I dunno, don't wait up," she winked at her sister and quickly left their apartment. He heard her excited steps on the steps and looked up, his face softening. She was just buttoning the top button of her coat when she got to the bottom steps.

"Hey there," she said.

"Good to see you," they exchanged a quick kiss on the cheek as she slipped her hand in to his. She was giddy with excitement.

"Queenie, you didn't tell me you were seeing somebody."  
"Oh Mrs. Espezito, I'm so sorry I forgot to tell you. I'll be home late, if you wanna know."

She just nodded her head, full head of curlers bobbing around.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Percival nodded kindly. Mrs. Espezito hadn't said a word to him.

He and Queenie walked out of the building together and down the street as they linked arms.

"So where we goin'?"

"It's a club I know of, its a few blocks away, I hope thats okay."

"Yeah its okay, I never go to swanky clubs."

He chuckled, "It's only slightly swanky."

* * *

Gellert called Queenie in to Percival's office. This was one task he wasn't looking forward to. She came in all bouncy as per usual, and Gellert stood behind the veil of Percival Graves' appearance. He frowned.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Graves?"

"Yes, could you close the door?"

"Sure," she closed it behind her and stood in the middle off his office. Gellert's brow furrowed, his eyes softened. He felt sorry for the poor girl.

"Please, have a seat," he motioned to one of the chairs infront of his desk. She quickly took a seat; she was wearing that cute navy blue dress again that he liked so much. Or that Percival had told her that he liked, but Gellert liked it too. He walked around to the front of his desk and sighed. He leaned back on the desk, arms crossed.

"You look worried, Mr. Graves. Is everything alright?" She sat so unassumingly with her hands in her lap, legs crossed at the ankle.

"I don't know how to say this, so I'll just come straight out with it." he paused. "I'm not the marrying type, Queenie. And I know that's what you want more than anything, but I can't give you that and I-" he could see her heart breaking as he spoke. Her face saddened, her lips maintaining their upturned nature but the skin between her eyes crinkled. "We can't keep seeing each other, it wouldn't be fair to you."

"You don't..." she bit her bottom lip.

He shook his head as he let it drop but he kept his eyes on Queenie. "I'm married to my work. I can't get home for dinner every night at five, and you deserve someone who can do that."

Her gaze dropped, she searched the carpet. She wanted a family more desperately than anything, and had thought maybe, just maybe he could put her above all others, including MACUSA. She listened as he talked. "I don't want to drag this out, to get your hopes up only to realize I wasted your time so, I think its better to stop things now before we go on too long."

She nodded her head, her eyes brimming with tears.

"It's nothing you did Queenie."

"I heard you Mr. Graves." 

Her words stung as she repeated him. "It wouldn't be fair." A tear rolled down her cheek and he tensed. He got out a handkerchief from his pocket and crossed their distance, he handed it to her and she took it. She twirled it up over her fingers and dabbed at her cheeks and under her eyes. She sniffled.

"I'm sorry," he said. 

She shook her head.

"That's alright. You're not the first man to say that."

"You're a sweet girl, you really are, and you deserve the best." She just nodded her head. It hurt, and even though she heard his words and knew he was logical, she still wanted him to take it all back.

"Thank you, Mr. Graves," she said as she looked down at the handkerchief in her lap. He waited a few more seconds, then went back around his desk and sat down. He'd give her as much time as she needed. A half minute later though she got up and left quietly without a word. He called Tina to his office.

* * *

"You wanted to see me Mr. Graves?"

"Yes Ms. Goldstein, have a seat."

She walked in, still holding on to her Auror title so this visit wasn't unexpected. She took a seat in the exact seat Queenie had been in and he looked up. eE sighed.

"I wanted to talk to you about your sister."  
"Mr. Graves, whatever you and Queenie have, it's none of my business, honestly."  
"It's not that, I uh, I feel like I owe you an explanation, so that when you get home tonight, you know what to expect."

Tina tilted her head to the side, confused.

"Your sister and I are no longer seeing each other."

"Oh," Tina frowned. She looked concerned, though not overly upset about the issue.

"She deserves someone who can make her a happy wife, and I can't do that."  
"What'd you say to her, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Well, I told her just that. That she deserves to be happy."

Tina nodded, "You're not the first man to say that to her."

He nodded and didn't feel like telling her that's what Queenie had said. Tina sighed, "Well, thanks for telling me. I'll pick up some chocolate on the way home."

He smiled faintly, he looked sad. "Good idea."

When she left, Gellert sat back. He sighed and rubbed his forefinger and thumb to his eyes. That had been one of the hardest things he'd had to do. He liked Queenie, she seemed like a great girl but he was absolutely not in to women, and he knew for certain that she and Percival had slept together. He couldn't imagine trying to pretend he liked her when that wasn't his persuasion. This was the best way he could let her down, but it still hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a [tumblr](https://thez1337.tumblr.com/), feel free to stop by and say hi or drop me a drabble


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